


The affect of George Sand

by If_you_had_had_a_sister



Series: Frédéric Chopin and George Sand [3]
Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Classical Music RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Self-Conscious, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/If_you_had_had_a_sister/pseuds/If_you_had_had_a_sister
Summary: Yes, I do know that this is not how you learn piano but in this fic it is.
Relationships: Frédéric Chopin/George Sand
Series: Frédéric Chopin and George Sand [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138421
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	The affect of George Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I do know that this is not how you learn piano but in this fic it is.

I was working on a prelude, my fourth. It was always a stress to write, I was never satisfied so I decided to do something simple for once. Yet I was going to be simple but I couldn’t just do something, there had to be a structure, a resolution. Oh why did I do this to myself. Then I heard George’s steps as she walked in and sat by me. She looked interested over at my notes as I was scribbling.  
“What are you working on, Chop?” She asked and sat down by me on the bench. I had promised to teach her the piano and how to read notes, but I had not seen her face since morning so I decided to just work on the prelude. She had probably been out on the town, smoking and walking around.  
“It’s a prelude, dear.” I answered shortly and played the next bar as I had imagined it, experimenting with it and finally decided on a thing and wrote what I could remember down. Just take what comes to you first, this was supposed to be relaxing, stop stressing! I told myself. Played what I couldn’t again and wrote it down. She looked both confused and fascinated at me, I could see out of the corner of my eyes.  
Another bar, writing down, some parts repeated and writing.  
“It sounds beautiful. And simple, could you teach me it?”. The other George was back with her soft voice and hesitant eyes. Not firm as neither masculine nor feminine. The two Georges I knew where similar, masculine and feminine counterparts of each other. The masculine; wild, firm, short tempered and stubborn. The feminine; calm, firm, patient and stubborn. Not manly stubborn like the masculine but motherly stubborn, strict. This one, different George, was shy, hesitant, soft, almost childish. She was like a little girl. 

“Of course I can.” I looked at her, my George, and smiled. Even though it was not done, I could still teach her what I had completed. I put the notes on the rack and placed my hands on the keys. She looked closely at where my hands where on the octave and put hers a few ones higher.  
“We’ll take the right hand first. First b.” We both played a b.  
“And then b an octave above, two times right after each other.”  
I could see her figuring it out and playing it over and over again, trying to make the volume even. Queerly this was relaxing to me. It was not stressful like how I always played and composed. It was calming. She looked just like me when Herr Żywny taught me Bach and Mozart. I smiled to myself. How queer. How beautiful. I always tried to relax, calm myself down when I was playing or composing but to no use. But here it came naturally to me. Her soft attempts, her excited eyes that shone whenever she completed a bar. My dear, dear George. We then came to the last bar, I had written and I sat for a moment thinking. Then I heard her playing and it was surprisingly fitting to the piece.  
“No... yes here...” she mumbled to herself as she figured it out.  
“Isn’t it going from b to e?”.  
She perked her head up curiously.  
How impressing that she could figure that out with her limited knowledge of music theory. I nodded, smiling.  
“Then maybe....” She played a few notes as best as she could.  
“....This would work?”.  
I looked at her hand.  
“Play it again.” I asked maybe a bit to stiffly and she did, a bit hesitant.  
“Yes, it’s great. Wonderful!” I praised, earning an embarrassed and cute smile from her. This was absolutely fitting!  
I wrote it down without hesitation and played the next part from that.  
“Oh you’re so talented my dear!” I told her. I played the next part again. No, not right. No. Maybe? Oh stop doing that just pick something! How could I be so easy at mind when she played something and when I did I was worrying. I did finally write it down. Oh but the whole thing was utter garbage. Except of course, George’s part.  
A pat on my shoulder and her sweet sweet voice.  
“I should just go now, Chop.” She stood up, leaned down and kissed my only sideburn. I was sure she could see my frustration. Oh how I wished that she would stay. But she had better things to attend to other than her frustrated, self-conscious, perfectionist and pathetic lover.  
“See you at dinner.” She let go of my face and left with small hesitant steps. Oh what had I done.


End file.
